


Peering From the Mirror

by madeof_it



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:14:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeof_it/pseuds/madeof_it
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peering from the mirror / No, that isn't me / Stranger getting nearer / Who can this person be? -Conchita Wurst, Rise Like a Phoenix<br/>Cormac/Hermione x Beauty & the Beast</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peering From the Mirror

It was nearly time for the yearly Yule Ball held at the Ministry, and Cormac had a PARTICULARLY tricky task this year. He and Hermione had been working for months on the Muggle Reparations Task Force, which put the two of them front and center for many of the publicity efforts to fix Muggle/Wizarding relations.

Typically, pictures would be seen of Cormac Mclaggen and his beaming smile, curly blonde hair carefully coifed so not a stray strand could be seen. Even his eyebrows were groomed, and the Ministry loved having his handsome face plastered on the front pages of newspapers. Even better than just being eye-candy, though, adulthood suited Cormac's personality, too. No longer the arrogant prat of his Hogwarts years, he was gentle and friendly. Anyone who'd known him when he was a stubborn young Gryffindor would be surprised to know him now.

And that's how it was with Hermione Granger. Everytime she passed him, she was vaguely aware that this was a very different man than the one that had literally chased her out of a school event. He wasn't cocky or full of himself anymore, and she silently rejoiced at the change.

Hermione, herself, though? The war had been cruel to her, stripping her of her family and many of her friends. Her relationship with Ron Weasley had deteriorated to something that barely even resembled friendship these days, and Harry wasn't much better -- trapped in his own fantasy world brought on by trauma and anxiety, he hardly left his house most days.

She didn't care how she looked, and it showed on her face. Unkempt curls and frizzy strands that surrounded her face, some of her colleagues joked that her lion's-mane hair was the actual manifestation of her Gryffindor bravery (although not to her face, as they would've been Stunned to see how she'd react). She didn't care about clothes, and had created her own uniform for work because she couldn't be bothered to pick out outfits. Every day was the same: a white button down blouse with a black blazer and black dress pants.

Seeing her solemn figure standing next to Cormac's at the various podiums was an interesting dichotomy. Perhaps that was why the Minister kept her in her post -- combined with her excellent speech-writing skills and the fact that she was (and would always be) one third of the revered Golden Trio of the war era, Hermione could hardly be disregarded.

It was interesting then, that Hermione and Cormac had been approached by the Ball committee and had it "strongly suggested" that they go together. And that Hermione please do something with her hair and make herself look presentable. She'd huffed, but if playing nice meant that their department would receive more grants that fiscal year, then she'd tough it out. She always did.

And that's what brought the two of them to this moment, Hermione rolling her eyes while Cormac hovered behind her exasperatedly, attempting to subdue the massive nest that was her hair. He spoke to her quietly, as if she was a terrified animal that needed soothing. She could've been, and if she were an animal, her hackles likely would've been raised.

Hours later, after perfumes and bizarre bath concoctions, caked-on make up (and then removal of said make up, Hermione insisted) and then application of more delicate brush strokes, it was done.

Cormac Mclaggen, refined in a freshly-pressed set of black Wizarding robes, escorted Hermione Granger, whose brown hair fell in soft waves down her back. Her dress fit perfectly, and the color of it made her brown eyes sparkle. She passed herself in a mirror, and didn't recognise the woman staring back at her, and for a moment she enjoyed the feeling of being someone completely new.


End file.
